


Rehabilitation

by shslpenda (notcoolhajime)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Future Foundation, Hope, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Terminal diagnosis, Unresolved Tension, pining hajime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcoolhajime/pseuds/shslpenda
Summary: “Hajime… how unlucky would it be- even for someone like me- for there to be no one here even as I took my dying breath?”Hajime felt his breath hitch, and he wondered if Nagito heard it as well, because his tone changed.“Just kidding.My luck wouldn’t even allow death! Besides, if this is the best something sinful like me could do, to spend my time looking after this island, then it’s a privilege just to serve the side of hope at all, right?”(Hajime Hinata will do anything in his power to save him, and show him people can't just be traded away like dolls.)





	1. Welcome Back to Jabberwock Island, Hajime Hinata

**Author's Note:**

> Please be careful, ahead are some spoilers from Super Dangan Ronpa 2: Goodbye Despair and DR3: Hope + Despair Side. If you haven't finished the game, please be wary because certain events will be referred to, including some aftermath of SDR2 and DR3: Hope Side. 
> 
> At the moment, this is rated as T for Innuendo, but by the end of this fic, the rating will probably be at M ;v; 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey. Can you hear me?"
> 
> It starts the same way every time.

 

 

 

"Hey. Can you hear me?"

It starts the same way every time. 

“... _ _Hello__?” Hajime groans, groggy and confused.

“Ahah… Hajime, good morning!” The voice on the other side of the line was too damn chirpy for these hours of the day.

“Nagito? Do you know what time it is?”

“4am-” Nagito said it as if he deserved some kind of reward. “-but no time is too early for hope!”

A rustle, the sound of a man’s sleep-drunken movements as he scratches idly at his hair, and readjusts his duvet. It’s 4am and Nagito is waking him up for… this? “ _ _4am is too early for__ \- nevermind.” He knows there’s no point explaining these things to people like Nagito. “Look. If you don't have anything important to say, I’ll call you again tomorrow?”

“Hey, Hajime, before you go-” Another groan. Hajime yawns into the darkness, his lip curling up in disbelief.

“Nagito.” It’s stern, and shuts him up. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a brief yes from the other end of the line, and Hajime lets out a long sigh. “Then do we really have to do this now? Just- just go to sleep.” The last part comes out as a whine, to Hajime's dismay. There’s a silence before a strange cough-laugh hybrid that Hajime really can’t be bothered to figure out. Then, there’s a jovial “good night!”, a prolonged beep, and he was finally alone again.

Hajime slumps back into his pillow, fighting the urge to toss the phone onto the drawer beside his bed. Resting on it, a black electronic clock flashes 4:05am in neon. He had two hours… two more hours of sleep before Fuyuhiko would knock on his door, and they’d have to travel to Towa City, in an attempt to clean up some of the mess they’d left there, and help as many people as they possibly could.

God… Perhaps somewhere between the time it took for him to put on his tie, and rush downstairs to meet Fuyuhiko, he’d call Hajime?

It’s not like breakfast was important anyway.

 

 

...

   

 

Sometimes, like tonight, Hajime would have dreams that Nagito was there. The white-haired boy was usually so noisy; but today, the boy was quiet. Hajime felt Chiaki beside him, holding onto his sleeve. They’re both staring at the body, motionless, in the middle of the room.

Hajime's stomach felt hollow. He wanted to throw up.

 

 

_..._

 

 

Hajime leans against the open window sill, letting the blue light of the night sky glance into the room. He looks up at the moon, eyes tired and sleepy, watching his breath as it floats above the city for a few innocent seconds before fading away. In the daytime, the ruined buildings looked harsh and ugly; but bathed in blue, it was a different story. Was it wrong, in a way, to think something once so full of death and destruction… was even more beautiful, in a poetic way? Hajime shivered, the winter air clutching at him. _Had this really all been… their fault?_ And Nagito had once been here, right?

“It’s… so cold here.” 

“Towa city?” A wistful wince from the other side of the line. Hajime knew Nagito would rather be here. At the back of his mind, he thought the boy would fit the picture so perfectly, his tattered coat and frazzled hair to the rubble of the background. “I suppose...” A sigh. “The weather here on the other hand is the same as always.” There’s a tinge of frustration hanging off the end of the older boy’s words, but then Nagito laughs on the other end of the receiver, and Hajime can’t help but smile.

“At least it’s relaxing.” Hajime inwardly imagines bathing in the warm summer sun. He thinks if Nagito would rather be here amidst the ruins, _ _he’d__  rather be lounging about on the beach without a care in the world. Must come with the lameness and predictability of his former existence as a reserve course student, he figured, shamefully. Nagito himself was never one to sit still, and Hajime realised the island was probably  _ _torture__ for him.

“Well, to put things into perspective…” and he could tell Nagito was determined to spin his vision around somehow, challenging as ever. “I went to the market today. I found a video cassette player hidden way back in storage.”

“Huh? Do people even use those anymore?” Hajime hums, and Nagito scoffs. _ _Guess not.__  Regardless. “So you watched a few movies? It still __sounds relaxing__.” He didn’t remember the last time he had the time to sit and idle around.

“It is extraordinarily dull here, Hajime.” Nagito’s voice is laced in disbelief and disappointment, and Hajime couldn’t help but laugh, imagining the boy’s judgmental face. But right after, Hajime could feel the amusement and pride bleeding from the other end of the line, and the new chirp in his voice as the boy continued to talk, now that he had been successful at dragging a small laugh out of Hajime.

“I know Kazuichi is busy, but if he’s ever free, could we have him install cable? The selection of movies in the market is ridiculous. I know I’m worthless, so I don’t deserve anything better, but it’s unbearable even for scum like me.”

“I’ll ask.” Hajime’s voice drawls out languidly, the lazy pace of the conversation easing into his veins. He rests his cheek against his folded arms. When had talking to this person become so normal?

“I’m not joking. This island is truly…” Hajime could hear Nagito ruffling his hair, before letting out an elated sigh as he found the words. “... Ah, despair-inducing! But I’m sure that Kazuichi would be able to do it!”

“Yeah, he would.” Hajime felt as if he could fall asleep, safe above the rest of the world. This fascinating world. Way below he sees the toy-like silhouettes of a mother and her two children, entering a patched up three-story building. Hajime smiles. _ _Things would be okay.__ The crazy, talented bunch that had found themselves into class 77-B… they were finally doing right. And he thinks, perhaps, the reason this place was so magical, was that even though Hajime knew the greatest despair that had taken place here, it was because everyone, even the most ordinary of people, fought back so hard to live and never gave up, that it was now a place again where little fireflies of hope were emerging all over the night-fallen city, even more breathtaking than it ever could be in an eternal daytime.

And it wasn’t just the weather, Hajime knew, that had Nagito aching to come. Every time they called, the first thing Nagito would ask was “What have you done today?”. As much as it was flattering to think anyone had an interest in his boring self, what he _knew_ the boy was asking for was the progress they had made.

When Hajime would run through the day to Nagito, that was when the boy was quietest, only listening intently but for the instinctual responses of occasional gasps and elated whimpers he’d hear over the phone. They were sounds that honestly never failed to make Hajime blush at how personal they sounded. He could easily picture the other boy, sitting at the edge of his seat, biting his fingernails with held breath, and often by the time Hajime would finish he’d suddenly hear the sound of laughter and clapping.

“Amazing! Splendid!”

Things that to any other human being would probably seem an overreaction- but to Nagito… for all the insane things he went through, the childlike amazement was completely real.

 

 _ _Peace__.

 

Both minds leisurely walking through conversation, as if they were side by side, surrounded by the sway of palm trees. They sat in comfortable silence, and Hajime could hardly notice the winter chill on his skin anymore, but rather the calm nature of the night beside him.

 

The boy on the other side of the line starts again, a musing tone. “It’s been a while though, hasn’t it? Since I’ve seen any of you.”

But Hajime could sense a rejuvenated attention at the conversation, a bit of hesitation - as if he’d been meaning to bring it up earlier, but could only muster up the courage to bring it up now.

It's almost been a full year since he had last seen Nagito too. He knew that, but tried to push the fact out of his mind. Hajime tried to remain nonchalant, but there was a certain weight in his chest at the knowledge that the person to which the voice belonged to had existed, nearly devoid of human contact and interaction, for… almost a year. He wondered what life was like: the day to day walking along the sand, letting cold waves roll over his feet. Was it exciting to see the seagulls? Having only seagulls as friends… that didn’t sound exciting at all, did it?

“Mikan comes by sometimes, though, right? You’ve told me.”

“The two hours Mikan comes are always a pleasure! I didn't mean to make it sound like it was nothing at all- I don't even deserve to have someone like her visiting me-”

“N-no, it’s fine! I’m sure she doesn’t stay long it’s not that you’re ungrateful-”

“Hajime, I’m beyond grateful. That she comes by once every 3 months- my heart pounds with excitement every time! That she would find worth visiting someone like me-”

Hajime gulped, flipping through the last report Mikan had sent him with his fingers. He knew she only had time to run the tests and leave, because she would apologize over the telephone to him constantly. He always told her not to worry, it was already so much for him to have asked her to do what she did. Nagito had no idea, but Hajime was so grateful for her too.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Hajime could practically see the raising of the other boy’s eyebrows, the surprised expression. He hadn't been a good friend. He relied too much on others, he asked way too much of them, and couldn't do enough for some of them. “We’ve been busy. There’s… just a lot to clean up.”

“Don’t worry, I understand! With all the hope and talent you all possess, of course, there’s no way I could even expect people like you to even step foot into Jabberwock Island again - _you’d really waste away here!_ Oh, how could I even ask such a thing? Especially just to visit someone so lowly and worthless as me? I’d never ask for it! It’s the perfect place for me, though...  somewhere so far away from the world, that even my luck couldn’t touch anyone! So no one can touch __me__ -”

“Nagito _…_ ”

“- _Hajime_ … how unlucky it would be, _even for someone like me?_ For there to be no one here even as I took my dying breath.” Hajime felt his breath hitch, and he wondered if Nagito heard it as well, because his tone changed. “Just kidding. Of course I wouldn’t! _ _My luck wouldn’t even allow death!” Frantic.__  “Besides, if this is the best something sinful like me could do, to spend my time looking after this island, then it’s a privilege just to serve the side of hope at all, right?”

 

 

... 

   

 

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. People can't control dreams, and they never meant __anything__. That was what Hinata Hajime repeated to himself as he waited for glass to fill up with tap water. Sometimes, Nagito would appear in his dreams, with his bony hands and pale skin, in the same small, cramped room as him. Warm. Warm. Much warmer than it should have been. The water cooled his throat as it made its way down, but Hajime was still burning, and trying to shield his eyes from the judgement of the hotel room walls in disbelief. His whole body jolts as he hears the beep from within his pocket.

__Is it Makoto?_ _

His hand stops midway.

 _ _What if it’s Nagito?__  

It’s 3am. It was  _ _definitely__  Nagito. No one else was ungodly enough to call at this time.

What bad luck. A whine escapes his throat, as he shuffles his way back to the bedroom, and leans back against the headboard, willing himself to cool down. He didn’t particularly want to pick up the phone considering just minutes he’d just seen the other in certain __situations__  without his permission, before waking to a breathy, uncomfortable sweat. He waits a while further until after the beeping stops. It beeps again, and Hajime relents with a shaky “H-hello?”

“Hajime!”

Hajime tried extra hard to act nonchalant, but Nagito was having the time of his life trying to decipher why he was so jittery today- what was this Hajime trying to play at? He starts off teasing, and teasing, probing questions, and outlandish scenarios Hajime could have been trapped in, with Hajime stammering out exclamations of “no!” to whether or not he was ill or kidnapped. After the list of probable scenarios decreased to an unbelievably small number, he hears a breathy exhale which makes the hair stand on the back of his neck.

“If that’s the case… you know, if you ever need anything, you could ask right? There’s nothing on this useless, decrepit body of mine that I wouldn’t give up for the sake of hope - for you - Hajime.” His voice is suddenly lower, there’s a lilt, and Hajime feels his jaw drop.

“Th-thanks?” is all he can work out, but he’s punching himself in the face immediately, that was not what he’d wanted to say. “B-but no thanks.” He adds a little too quickly. “What could I need from you, anyway? What are you-” god “ _-implying?_ ” He’s trying to laugh it off casually, but they’re coming out fake.

Nagito laughs in return, and Hajime shifts uncomfortably, because they’re laughing at the same tune. “Oh- of course! It’s probably quite insulting to you, isn't it, for someone to offer such a useless and disgusting gift.” Hajime thinks he's made a mistake. “I couldn’t help but offer my worthless existence to the use of someone when I see the chance. I'm so sorry, I should really know my place next time.”

“I-” Hajime gulps. “It’s n-not like that.” Instant regret. “I-I just meant I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” But his mind is swirling with questions.

“What did you mean by-”

“Anything.” Nagito finishes his sentence, and the texture of his voice is low and silken. He can't quite place the mood of the boy on the other side of the phone, and his breath is stuck in his lungs.

Hajime swallows but his throat is dry.

“Right.” Short, matter of fact. Cool and casual Hajime. “I’m not sure what you mean,” it comes out breathless, to his dismay, and he can see the eyebrow arch on the other end of the line. “ _ _I’m going to__  go now.”

“Ok, bye, Hajime!” and there's a click, and a beep beep beep to the beating of Hajime's heart.

 

 _ _God__.

 

The lull of Nagito’s voice travels lower and lower, past the heavy rise and falls of his chest. The heaviness of his lungs. _ _Anything__? He’s in disbelief. He couldn’t explain the sudden- __god__ \- sensation- __oh surely__ , the boy couldn’t be that _ _ridiculous.__  Lower. Lower.

If he didn’t have pride he would call this-

breathlessness-

 

__panting-_ _

__

Hajime can only swallow in disgust as he tries to wash every last trace of the shame from his hands, cursing himself.

   

 

 _._. _._   

 

  

Hajime wouldn't admit it, but every once in a while, when he was really tired, he’d fall asleep while talking to the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. Hajime could always identify the tinge of pride in the other’s voice as he picked up the phone the next day, apologised for being so boring. 

 

 

 _..._   

 

 

There was one night that Nagito called, obviously breathless, voice quivering, a tinge of desperation in his voice- and before he knew it Hajime had automatically hung up- eyes wide, face flushed, and himself a little dizzy. 

When Nagito called back a few seconds later, he apologised, voice more composed, and light-hearted -

“For trash like me to get ahead of themselves like this- wow! Ah, I’m so _ _disgusting__ -”

Before Hajime could respond, the other boy quickly changed the topic about some new equipment he had apparently found, stored behind a vent in the supermarket, how it had probably been a murder plot that never took off. Hajime’s shoulders relaxed, and they had fun making conspiracies, now that it wasn’t their actual lives anymore.

Nagito then questioned why Hajime's room was the resting place of underwear from not only Hajime-- __“Wait, why were you in my room?!”__ \-- but two pairs of girls underwear along with Nagito's own, to which Hajime spiked anxiously, only able to quip that it wasn’t his fault if other people decided they wanted him to have it. There was a bit of an anxious shuffle after that one, and an _ _“Are you a pervert, Hajime?”__  which left Hajime scrambling for explanations.

In the midst of frenzied __‘I’m just a teenage boy, you know?!’__ s, incredulous ‘ _ _you were the ones who gave them to me!’s__  and _ _‘not that I did anything anyway!’__ s a pure tone of laughter rang out which had Hajime speechless and beaten. Utterly destroyed. He wanted to curl up inside his blanket and never surface.

“Just f-forget it…”

Nagito laughed again, and Hajime was just about to hang up if not for the chorus of __‘Wait, Hajime- please!’__ that came after.

 

 

_..._

 

 

“Do you miss anyone?”

Hajime paused, thinking. “Yeah. I guess. What about you?” 

“Of course!” Nagito would always ask, and give the same response to the reply, but never probed deeper. It confused Hajime slightly, but he’d given up on trying to understand some of the other’s more peculiar quirks, anyway.

But it was, nonetheless, frustrating; because Hajime wasn’t really sure what question he was answering. Of course there were lots of people he missed. His parents, the rest of his friends, currently spread across the world trying to fix what they had created…

Scenes of the rampage and destruction they created across the world sprang up in his mind, and he bit his lip in shame. They had a lot to answer for. There’s suddenly a ping from his computer, and Hajime puts the phone down for a second, typing a few messages-

-and send.

“Oh- Nagito - have you checked the airport recently?”

The boy seemed hesitant to answer. “Why? Is there a problem?” a dark tone tainting the edges of his voice.

“It looks like- we received a signal disturbance near Jabberwock yesterday- did Makoto tell you? It’s closest to the airport.”

The other side of the line was quiet for a while, before a sigh. “Hajime, you know I’m not fond of airports… but I see. Well, if either Makoto or Hajime wants it, there’s no way I could possibly refuse, right?” Voice bright again, if a little forced.  
  
“We’re not quite sure whether it really is trouble or not, because it was really brief- but I suppose- I’ll check it out when I get there, yeah?”

A gasp, a clatter, a bit of a quiver in his breath as the other boy scrambles to pick something up.

__“If... that would be okay with you, of course?”_ _

Another quiver, and Hajime feels the resolve strengthen in his chest.

 

 

_..._

 

  

Hajime can't help the way his heart thrums as he’s rocked along with the ship. He’s not usually nauseous on boats, but there’s definitely an excited fluttering in his stomach as the rays of sun got stronger and he knew he was nearly there. His fingers drum on the metal seat beside him, antsy with anticipation. He reaches up to loosen the tie currently strangling him.

God, there was no reason to be nervous.

He’s not quite sure what to expect, it’s been a year and all.

But they’d talked nearly every day for that.

It’d be a bit strange to see a face along with the voice he's so familiar with. It’d be harder to get away with the more embarrassing faces he makes every once in a while they get into an intimate conversation. He had an inkling Nagito knew he was soft- he wasn’t exactly good at hiding it, but he couldn't let him know he was the kind of soft where he’d cry at the end of romance movies, or when he’s kicked out of a girl’s-only baking party. He lets out a huff. _ _That one had hurt__.

He has his pride on the line.

He _did_ care what Nagito thought, even though sometimes he really wished he didn't.

In the distance he can see a shadow of an island, and Hajime's already leaning over the side, trying to catch even a glimpse of tattered olive and white, but the pristine white sand and fresh green forests are proving to make it quite a challenge. A spray of sea splashes into his eye unexpectedly, and he gasps a bit at the burn, reaching up to wipe his eyes and losing his balance, doubling over the rails as it knocks the breath out of him. He’s staring at the rolling waves below that threaten to engulf him.

Sweat starts at the back of his neck, as he laughs nervously, thankful there was no one to watch the completely embarrassing display. Hajime had no idea why, but all of a sudden he’s collapsed on the floor, not even bothered to expend the energy to make the fall graceful, or register the pain. But even so, his nerves are jittery, and he’s a mix of both exhaustion and electricity. He realises he’s beyond anxious. His heart hasn’t stopped thrumming since earlier. He decides the best thing to do is to close his eyes, willing his body to calm, breathing deep rhythmic breaths, letting the warmth seep into his rough skin, feeling the ocean spray on his face.

He’s alerted to action by the squawking of seagulls overhead, with a jolt, managing to evade a thoughtful present just in time.

Well thank _ _god__ , because he’s not about to see someone for the first time in a year dressed in bird droppings. _Lucky him._ It’s only after sitting up that he realises he can spot the a figure sitting on the sandy shore, a bit away from the docks. It’s only after he sits up that the person seems to notice him as well now that he’s not obscured by the sides of the boat, stretching out from his hunched position and making to stand.

Hajime’s breath stops, scrambling to get up and raising an arm high in the air, like an honors student racing to get the attention of the teacher. He’s… not sure why the figure seems to turn his messy head to the left, and the right, before giving a muted wave.

Hajime lowers his hand, a sudden worry settling in and-

__Is he not that excited to see me?  Had he g_ otten complacent about..._

__No.__ Hajime grits his teeth, the past year running through his head. __There was nothing to be worried about.__

The boat hasn’t even stopped when he hops off the front of the ship, nearly stumbling over on the dock and face-planting into the planks.

“Hey, watch it!” a burly voice shouts down from the ship, and Hajime feels an embarrassed twinge in his chest.

“Sorry!” Hajime shouts back to the captain who is rolling his eyes, giving a thumbs up to him to signal that he can leave. In the process, lady luck seems to be shining down upon him, because one of the final planks he steps on is loose, clipping through and tripping him; he finds himself flung forward, face-first and ass-up in the fine sand.

“Ha-Hajime?!”

He hears in the distance, and his heart drops as the footsteps pick up. When he manages to blink the sandy tears out of his eyes, he’s looking up at a concerned looking boy, crouched over him with his hands on his knees.

“You’re all scratched up, Hajime. You should be more careful.” Nagito laughs. “Your existence is actually valuable, unlike mine.” Hajime could recognise that voice from anywhere, a voice he’s heard night and night again on their hour long phone calls. And when he takes Nagito's hand, currently reached out in front of him to help him up, the other’s features light up in pleasant surprise.

They’ve gone a long way since that first time on the island, where he found himself swatting the hand away and telling him to leave.

Pulling him up, the momentum bumps their shoulders together- leaving him __breathless__ \- before Hajime can steady himself, and they’re there in awkward handshake, eyes wide, staring each other in the face, letting it sink in.

“Welcome back.” Nagito says, eyes closed brightly, features gently crinkled into a pleasant smile, one familiar enough to drag Hinata back to the first day on the island.

“Glad to be back.” Hajime says with a curt nod, genuine smile creeping up to his own face, surprised at how easily his own words slip out, and just how comfortable he was back at the setting where __so much had taken place.__

 

1 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after the events of DR3: Side Hope in a rebuilding world. Despite the fact they were all supposed to return to Jabberwock Island, having some Ultimate Talents is extremely valuable especially considering the state of the organization after DR3; so this is based on that premise. 
> 
> I'm hoping this turns out as gentle, hopeful, and awkward an exploration of these two broken messes as I want it to be. Despite the direction I want this to go in, that this captures these two characters in a lighter way for now ;v; <3
> 
> If you wanna keep updated on fics or stuff, I'm @notcoolhajime on tumblr + twt ;v; I cry over these two, like... way too much......


	2. What do you miss, Hajime Hinata?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two boys on an island...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly reminder... has everyone seen the Valentines 2k18 KomaHina Cake? Yes? Well, I'll remind you every single time I update for the rest of this fic. *DEEP BREATHS*
> 
> Warnings:  
> One. SDR2 + DR3: Side Hope & Despair Spoilers and the like. Please play and watch. No regrets! Promise!!!  
> Two. I'll be updating tags chapter by chapter at a time depending on when they become relevant. Chiaki will at some point be important enough to the themes of this fic that it will cross the territory I will have to tag her, and mentions of past relationships (cough). But this is, and will remain, solidly a Komaeda/Hinata fic. :)

 

  

The kinds of expression Nagito makes when he's here are surprising, and Hajime finds himself surprised. He’s almost fascinated, because when it’s just the two of them, Nagito’s face is gentle. On him is an almost affectionate peculiar expression that Hajime can't find himself understanding... but at the same time: it’s a bit awkward, and Hajime notes that Nagito’s not the biggest fan of eye contact as his eyes linger all over palm trees he’s probably seen a million times.

He's not talkative, either.

And just like everything else to do with Nagito Komaeda, Hajime's conflicted about whether this reaction to his arrival makes him happy, or a bit disappointed. He’d been half-expecting the other boy to explode in ecstasy, and he’d thought considering he hadn’t seen a friend since the last time Mikan dropped in to check up on him three months ago, and anyone else for over a year, Hajime had thought there’d be… more.

Just… _more_.

But despite the fact their conversations flowed so eagerly over the phone, there was a strange silence lingered now that the two boys were walking side by side.

Hajime racks his brain for something to say, but all that comes out really, is:

“Man, the weather is so nice. Can't get sick of it, can you?”

To which all Nagito responds with is:

“Yeah.” And the bright closed-eye smile he had before, but now that it’s here again, Hajime can make out just the tiniest bit of discomfort underneath the pleasantry.

It's unnerving...

The pale boy with his windswept hair is now looking at the edge of the sandy pavement, hands in buried in the pockets of his olive green coat, and Hinata wonders what he’s thinking about. From Hajime's own observation, the pavement really wasn't that interesting.

“Where should we go first?” Nagito's voice is soft, and it's the first time since the beach that Nagito's really making the effort to look him in the eye. Hajime's almost surprised Nagito's the one to speak first. As Hajime processes this information, Nagito continues. “You must be here for a reason, after all.” The bright cheery smile is back and Hajime starts to want it gone. “You’re really busy, Hajime, so you aren’t here just to waste your time, are you?”

 _I’m not wasting time_ \- Hajime wants to bite back and then he’s so aware again of how easy it was for Nagito to get on his nerves, saying exactly the right thing to crawl under his skin. But regardless, he _was_ here for a reason. That didn't change the fact he knew Nagito was insinuating-

 _One_ , that he would waste his time; and _two_ , that Komaeda _himself_ was a waste of time.

“Since you could be off doing more hopeful projects, Hajime, I would _hope_ that you’re here for a reason.”

Hajime’s about to retort before his stomach lets out a rumbling sound, and Nagito’s looking amused.

And just like that, he's walking ahead of him: pushing past large gates that lead to their previous sleeping quarters. Hajime feels a peculiar sensation, walking past the rows of cottages. When he comes across the pool, he notices that the water is extremely clear. He wonders if Nagito uses the pool often. There’s a confidence in his stride as his hips sway side to side, the tails of his long hoodie swinging.

Despite the fact that Nagito didn’t like it here, there was a certain air about the boy, which claimed the island as his own. When he pushes open the heavy mahogany doors of the hotel, he looks surprised when he sees Hajime is still here; he’s holding open the door for him and the oppressive nature of the boy is gone.

Hajime wonders what Nagito is like when he’s alone.

He seems to slow down for Hajime to catch up on the stairs, hopping two or three steps at a time, before they step into the restaurant in sync. 

The open restaurant is exactly the same as he remembers, just there are no fruits out of the open on the large bowls in the middle of the tables. His eyes flit over to where Nagito has disappeared behind the doorway in the back and emerges with a large bottle of juice and empty plates. He sets it on the counter as Hajime enters the kitchen. There’s an innocent package of bread sitting on the table, which he takes along with some butter and chocolate spread from the refrigerator. When he comes back to the restaurant, Nagito insists on taking the food from him and gets to work happily behind the counter. 

On one of the tables overlooking the view, two glasses of orange juice are already set down, and Hajime pulls back a chair, settling down, leaning back and stretching. He hadn’t bet on feeling so at ease as the cool breeze brushes at his bangs. After Hajime hears the click of the toaster, Nagito’s pulling out the chair in opposite to him and they sit in silence.

“So…” Hajime starts, and Nagito’s eyes are trained on him immediately. “We need to look around the island just to make sure everything is in order. Makoto just wants to make sure everything’s still okay and working... we have to take notes about any equipment that needs replacing and gather some things to ship back to the future foundation if they need to be repaired by Kazuichi. And just to check out the island in general. I told you right? There was some weird signal near the airport the other day, so we should definitely check out this island first. We'll make our way around the other islands during the rest of the week.”

Nagito’s eyes seem to narrow a fraction, as he nods. Hajime isn’t sure if he’s imagining things.

“And?”

“If there are any broken structures, we should report it... then we can get someone in to fix it. Make sure the piping on the island is working, water-sources clean. Just make sure this place is still inhabitable.”

“The people who come to restock food could do these things. You don't need to waste your time on menial tasks like this.” Hajime blinks, taken aback by Komaeda’s comment. His next comment is ice. “What else are you here for?”

Hajime’s throat seizes. Nagito’s gaze is scrutinizing in a way he forgot it could be. The boy has an elbow on the table, and his head is cocked slightly, slender fingers tickling the underside of his chin.

“Th-that’s... all." Hajime's not sure what the other boy is inviting him to say. His own fingers fiddling with the cool glass in front of him, wet from condensation.

“This is a problem…” Nagito mutters, a hand running through his wild hair, and Hajime has a feeling he’s muttering to himself. “That they’d send someone like Hajime to do low-grade work like this, as if they don't know what he’s worth. Or is it so you can look after me like a dog?” Hajime's jaw drops.

“Hajime… do you know how much hope can be lost in a week?” His eyes are tracing Nagito’s actions as he slips his phone out of his pocket. It must be the same one he uses to call _him_.

“Wait. What the hell are you _doing_?”

Nagito lets out a single breathy laugh in disbelief, as if it's obvious, making to stand and leave the table. “There is no way someone valuable like you is staying here rotting on this island meant for trash like _me_ for a whole _hopeless_ _week_ -”

Hajime lurches forward at that, grabbing at Nagito’s ruined coat and spinning him towards him. There’s almost a surprised gasp, and he’s in his airspace, startled eyes judging him from a closer distance now. His other hand is trying to wrestle the phone out of Nagito's.

“Don’t be so _irresponsible, Hajime_ -”

“Don’t be so _impulsive_!” Hajime bit back. “I don’t care if you call Makoto, I’m not going back before a week is _over!_ ”

“But we could get it done in a _day_!”

“We’re going to be _thorough, Nagito_ -”

“Hajime. ” His eyes snap up, and Nagito looks really annoyed. “I’m here 365 days a year. What do you really think I could _possibly_ miss-” the boy’s eyes freeze, and there’s an intake of air. “Oh. _Oh._ You don’t trust me, do you?” His eyes cast downward, an over-dramatic look of shame playing across his face, as he looks down at one hand with a pitiable smile and laugh. “Oh, I see, trash like me- I wouldn't trust me _either_ -”

What kind of Nagito-level self-hate mind-fuckery bullshit _is this_?

“No, I’m here to make sure it’s safe. For you!” He’s gesturing up and down at Nagito trying to get it through that _thick skull of his_ -

“Well if it’s only something stupid like that-” and the frightfully frustrating boy had the audacity to roll his eyes- “then I told you, that’s unnecessary Hajime! We can get you out of here in a day if we really try!”- eyes bright and genuinely excited.

“No, it matters that you’re safe cos you’re our friend!” Hajime is beyond himself. Dear _god_ , no one makes his blood boil like _him_ , he felt less frantic when Hiyoko threatened to kick him off a cliff. Something clicks in his head. “Do you really want me to leave that badly, Nagito?”

Nagito looks puzzled, like he was surprised he hadn’t been clear enough. “Yes?”

That… that _hurt_.

“I just came all the way here and you want me to leave- like- now?”

“ _Yes._ ” Nagito looks incredulous, as if he’s dumbfounded that Hajime only realises this now.

That fucking _hurt_.

He realises that tears are threatening at the corner of his eyes and the only thing stopping him from straight up crying was the fact Hiyoko had called him a big crybaby man before he came and they’d bet on a hundred dollars that Hajime wouldn’t cry on the first day. He has to make up for the pride he lost that day he got kicked out of the all-girl’s baking part the year and a half ago. He'd promised himself that Hiyoko was wrong and he didn't just cry _in frustration or weakness or whatever_ at the drop of a nickel. To think Nagito could get him _so…_ so _angry..._

Nagito looks a bit awkward now, he’s looking around for a napkin, but when he can’t find one, he stretches the sleeve of his green jacket over his right arm and seems to reach out tentatively. Hajime bites his lip. It’s a tender gesture, he thinks, but he shrugs him off and Nagito looks somewhat _disheartened_.

“You’re understandably upset, it seems, that you spent so long on travel just to have to leave immediately. That you’ve realised you’ve _wasted_ so much time travelling to this worthless place for _no reason_ \- but I assure you Hajime that if you leave now, you'll save all the extra time you would have originally wasted on me, and you can use it to work towards hope!”

Hajime’s mouth drops open before he bites his lips to bruises and just lowers his head into his arms, dead emotions running through him. He’s not even crying, he just doesn't have the energy to deal with this right now. Nagito goes silent. Hajime stays like that for a few minutes, petty and unwilling to look up, not even with the start of movement and clatter around him. The scraping of a chair, the clinking of utensils and the patter of footsteps before the unmistakable sound of a plate being placed on the table before him. He hears a crunching and chewing sound, and just ignores it for some time in his own head.

The boy across from him finally places his fork down, and Hajime can feel his eyes on him.

“I seem to have upset you somehow.” It’s not an inquiry, but a statement but the boy still manages to sound confused. Hajime doesn't respond.

“Hajime.. _._ having someone like you here is already a blessing my putrid existence doesn’t deserve. It’s simply undeniable that as absolutely brimming with hope as it makes me,” there’s a millisecond of an intense shudder as he stops for a moment and Hajime doesn't really understand how Nagito is feeling now. Had he ever? Or had he just assumed?

When Nagito speaks again, his voice is softer. “I just know that Hajime is better than to hang around a pessimistic weight like me while he works. I think he would do much better blooming somewhere else!”

Hajime's a bit confused at the fact he was being referred to in the third person, but he realises it's the boy trying to distance himself from the situation, tracking the conversation from an outside view; Nagito’s own version of empathy.

“At least, that is what I mean to express, Hajime! I don’t believe there is _anything_ there that should have insulted you- I would _never_ -”

Hajime finally raises his head from his arms, his right hand motioning at Nagito to _please, stop_.  His left hand gets to work trying to ease the tension in his brain. “You haven’t,” _you’re just being stupid ._ That's what Hinata _wants_ to say, but doesn’t for fear of the self-deprecation to begin again. _As if it ever stopped,_ Hajime thinks to himself. He’s quiet for a while, sternly looking down at the table, intent to get the words right. “I just- please think of this as my job. I need to be here for a week- however many days you think it takes- according to Makoto's orders. Does that make you feel better?”

“Makoto asked you to…?” Nagito looks unsure, eyes glazed over. A hand is now dragging wispy white hair down his face. “I suppose. To think I’ve added once again to Hajime’s _burdens_ … the lowly existence I am.”

His eyes perk up. “I can convince Makoto that it doesn’t take seven days-”

“No,” Hajime is quick to say, “Or, I’d rather not. It’d make him think I was… lazy, and that I’m trying to worm out of doing my job right.”

Bullshit, he thinks to himself. Makoto had given him this task after realising that Hajime had too often been staring down at the… Hajime’s teeth clenched. But Nagito didn’t have to know that. _No._  He couldn’t know.

“Hajime is not _lazy_ -” the other boy seems to be agitated now, in disbelief at the suggestion, a bit perplexed by the situation at hand.

Hajime had to find a way to get him to stop thinking of a way out.

“Look, just stop for a minute.” His words come out nice, and slow, and to his surprise the other boy obeys. Good. “Besides. I spend 358 days a year working my ass off on the outside world-” Nagito’s eyes widen. “-if you think this will be an easy task, we can work on maximizing the hope we bring in. Together.” and Hajime smiles.

Utter bullshit, he’s not even quite sure what that _means_. But he’s so embarrassed by the look of utter syrupy _fondness_ that has consumed Nagito’s face at that statement, he has to loosen his tie to calm down his flush.

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

“I'm always amazed at the way Hajime conquers adversity with his continuous optimism, even if his opponent is clueless and disgraceful.” Nagito chuckles.

Hajime’s still a bit weirded out by being referred to by the third person, and by the fact Nagito had just described himself as… _adversity_. But if it helped him cope better with the idea that- _oh my_ \- he was spending a week away from the world outside? Then so be it. There were more pressing issues at hand, Hajime thinks, his gaze travelling over to the other boy who seems much happier now, a bit of liveliness in his step.

Suddenly, Hajime’s stomach growls and a concerned expression flits across Nagito’s face.

The boy lets out a chuckle. "You didn’t even finish the toast I made you.” He points out, and Hajime diverts his eyes quickly, taut smile on his face, pretending to be distracted by the butterflies fluttering around the park, sweat beading it’s way down his forehead.

 _Toast?_   Hajime corrects in his head. _More like charcoal._

“Well, at least when we get to Rocketpunch, so you can pick up something along the way.” Nagito muses.

Yep. That was _definitely_ the plan.

They would spend a day on every island, and there’d be two in the middle they would spend resting. At the back of his mind, he could tell Nagito didn’t think it sounded productive, but at least he'd managed to fend of his questioning.

He lets out a breath of silent relief, looking out from the pathway and into the beach. Jabberwock island. He soaks in feel of the island around him.

He falters in his step.

The sun shone so bright today - the way the light gleamed off the waves and in the sunlight, Nagito also looked... well. A world unlike anything he'd seen in the past year. Far from any reality _he_ knew.

 

...

 

Hajime closes his eyes, silently going over everything in his head.

 

Before him, Nagito continues to move forward.

 

 

 

  _1_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna keep updated on fics or stuff, I'm @notcoolhajime on tumblr + twt ;v; I cry over these two, like... way too much......
> 
> I absolutely treasure any feedback so much... it really makes my day, and I'd absolutely love to know what you think! <3 ;__; !


	3. Intermission [1+?] : FTE [Hospital Run 4+?]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two brief intermissions, timeline ̫ͮ̏ ̻̞̲̺͖̒͌̏ͥ͗̊̾ͅ ̫̜̼̭ͫͅ ̷̫̩̺̰ͬ͆ͬ̿̔̈u ̖̺̻̖͎͉͆͛͊ ̝̱̰ͫͤ̓̓ͥͥ ̘̈̏ ̞̰͉͊̊̾n ̲̏̽̅̊ ̈́̓̉̌̚҉̭͔̭̱̣̖ ̉̂̚̕ ̳̠̞͂ͨ̒ͧ͐̃̓͡ ̭͖̟̩̈́̔͠ͅk ͍̺ͣ̓̊͐̂ ̄ͨ̓̓҉ ͋̑͂̂̔ͯ ̷̬̜̖̩̭̝̱ ̘̞͎̗̘̮̹ͩ ̖͎̟͉̬̫̗̂̈́̃̓ͧ̊̚ ̸̩̭̬̳̓ ̥͈͖͕̦̙̖̒ͮ ̤̞͕̣͈̩̕ ͚͇̪̫͖̲̐ͮ̚ ̤̭̮̏̇̍ͫͦ̎͠ ͔͍̞̞̠̯ ̾ͥͧͨ̆̀͡n ̸͎̻̖̭̫̻ͪ̿̎ͫͧ ?

 

... 

   

 

 

_"Are you okay?”_

_He’s peeking out behind the door, and Nagito’s heart jumps._

_“Ha! You’re here-” He feels his shoulders stand at attention as the man shoots a smile, and makes his way into the room._

_“Of course I am. I told you I’d come by last week, right?”_

_“Well…” Recollection. Not hard when it's all white walls and words. There’s a flower by the bedside, but it’s white and wilting as well. “Yes, you did, I suppose. But Makoto came by, he said that-”_

_“Yeah. Something important came up.” He waves offhandedly, settling his briefcase in front of the drawers. As always._

_“Right. Even Mikan left. It must be important.” Nagito points out, eyes trailing the other man, a bit of disappointment in his tone. Not at Mikan, Hajime registers, at you._

_“It is.”_

_Nagito furrows his brow._

_“You’re irresponsible-”_

_A counter reaction. Tsun Tsun Hair is always reactive._

_“I’m not! Even then, so what-”_

_“You shouldn’t be sacrificing the hope of the world to see me.”_

_Contemplation. A pointed finger. A sigh._

_“Well, this is important too… to me.”_

_Hajime fidgets with the tie, his mismatched gaze flitting about the room, and finally, meeting Nagito’s. There’s a conflicted feeling in the pale boy’s chest. He shouldn’t be so happy while knowing the world outside is in ruins, and he was doing nothing to help. The white haired boy clucks his tongue, closing his eyes in exasperation and resting his head on wall behind him, fingers buried in his blanket._

_“This is ridiculous. I’m such a burden.”_

_The other boy ignores this, picking up the chair and scooting it closer to Nagito. He sits on it back to front, arms folded over the back of the chair._

_“Then you better get up and running soon, huh?” A sunny teasing smile. Is that a challenge?_

_Hajime’s eyes are closed._

_Nagito hopes._

... 

 

 

 

 

_There’s not a day that goes by where Hajime isn’t staring down at the papers, hand brushed through his hair, trying to scrutinize the red and green jagged lines from the weekly scans. At least the nutrient levels are improving, and he wonders the sickly boy would ever have allowed them improve to such a level by his own volition._

 

_This solidifies it._

__

_It’s necessary,_ he thinks, drumming his fingers on the table.

__

_What they did was necessary… but according to Mikan’s weekly report…_

 

Hajime’s eyelids lower, fingers fanning out the brain scans. He might as well have have drawn out the scans from last week, and he wouldn't have been able to tell them apart, if it weren’t for the neat white date printed on the top right corner. Maybe if he brought out the scans from the first week of the medical program, he would be able to spot a difference? The only thing he hopes for is that it hadn’t gotten _worse _.__ He’s sitting at the desk, work buried under the medical files, and he can’t help the urge to just put his head in his arms… so he gives in, forehead hitting the coated wood.

 

_He’s not improving._

_He’s never improving._

 

They’ve even gone and done _ _that__ , and he’s _still not improving._

 

Hajime tugs uselessly at his tie, and it’s not until he feels a punch on his shoulder that he turns to see Fuyuhiko, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, scowling down at him. But despite the scowl, he’s glowing today, Hajime thinks. There’s something different about him. _His clothes? No, he’s in his usual pinstripe suit…_ but Hajime thinks he’s standing taller.

 _Has he grown?_ The thought makes him want to snicker. _Yeah, right, not in this universe._ He makes sure not to say that out loud, because he quite likes his head on his shoulders, _thank you very much._

“What do you think you’re doing? It’s not lunch yet, you idiot.” The boy’s scolding voice turns Hajime’s ears red in embarrassment.

“Sorry...” Hajime mumbles sheepishly. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Probably has somethin’ to do with the fact I could hear your voice all fuckin’ night, giggling with the little shit of yours. I have ears, dumbass.”

Hajime’s cheeks fire red. “Sorry,” is all he can get out, but Fuyuhiko’s gaze has wandered elsewhere by now.

“How is he?” Fuyuhiko mutters.

Hajime watches the boy glance along the table before settling on the graphs, putting his coffee down on the blue desk so he can take a closer look. There’s a suffocating feeling in his own chest, a strange want to shield it from the other boy: the combination of his own failures and another’s most vulnerable information, which have somewhere along the way become way more personal than he’d ever counted on. There’s something wrong with him, he thinks, to feel like in any way these pictures and scans were meant only for him, intimate to only him: as if the person who the medical data belonged to trusted him and only him. But because he knows it’s wrong, he only finds himself with his fingers threaded through his hair again, threatening to clench and pull in their tension.

His life was a mess of data and graphs, constantly analysing numbers which had nothing to do with his work obligations, and he could see it in Makoto’s eyes when he turned in his work. Pity. Disappointment. It hurt a bit to watch even Fuyuhiko’s hard eye cringe in sympathy. As an Ultimate, there wasn’t much he didn’t understand… but to have to chase after an ever-evolving Ultimate Luck was difficult, even for himself, all talents considered.

Even to Hope’s Peak, the boy’s strange luck was impossible to understand. The boy was an Ultimate for a reason.

“You've really done it now, haven’t you?” Fuyuhiko says glumly, and Hajime can only laugh at himself in shame.

“It’s…” he starts, before the word is stuck in his throat. _Necessary?_ He probably sounds like such a heartless _dick._ There’s an easier response to settle on.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry seems to be Hajime’s choice of word today, the only one he feels he can say. Fuyuhiko eyes him soberly, before casting his gaze back on the cluttered mess that he could only guess hid Hajime’s workplace beneath it. The blond boy sighs, running his fingers along his buzzcut.

“I know why you did what you did. I don’t know if it’s right, but…” Fuyuhiko’s visible eye narrows as he speaks, and he scowls, running over Hajime’s sullen expression.

“I can’t say I know what the deal is between you two, and I can’t say I’ve ever understood that bastard... but you reap what you sow. Stop sulking. It was probably still a shitty thing to do…” Hajime’s laugh is pathetic, and Fuyuhiko’s shoulders slump, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I get it. I’d probably have done the same thing.”

Now that his hand is in plain sight, Hajime can see the glint of the ring on Fuyuhiko’s finger, and his eyes widen. “Hey… congratulations.”

Fuyuhiko shines a bright shade of pink, hand retracting behind his back for a second. “What?” 

Hajime nods to gesture at the boy’s hidden arm.

“About time.”

The blond boy is spluttering, the composure he held just second ago vanishing into thin air. Hajime grins, raising an eyebrow. “Who asked?”

There’s a grumbling, before a low admittance. “Peko…”

“You’re a lucky guy.” Hajime laughs, leaning back into his seat, watching as the shorter boy twiddles the gold on his finger self consciously. “You’re good together.”

“Yeah… y-yeah. We are.” Fuyuhiko nods, his ringed hand forming fist, as if solidifying this fact for himself. There’s a twinge in his voice, the mix of gentility and determination; the need to care for and defend. Hajime can feel a twinge of jealousy at the kind of affection the boy’s gaze held, at the strength he probably wasn’t even aware he was showing to the outside world. “I’m really grateful for her.”

Loosely, he wonders if there’s anyone he’s ever looked at like that before.

The Ultimate Yakuza goes silent for a while, gentle eyes flickering to the corner at nothing in particular, as he seems to draw out memories. “It was so lonely… without her. I’m not gonna let that happen again… we _can't_  let it happen to any of our friends. _Not again._ ”

The note hits maybe a little too closely; it’s a _thump_  in his chest at her memory, and Hajime gives his best try at a smile. They sit in silence, before the moment of vulnerability seems to jolt the shorter boy awake.

“But I mean- enough of that. Maybe your _friend_ is pretty lucky after all. Y’know… to have someone like you looking out for him all the time.” It’s Hajime’s turn to flush a bright red.

“I’m not _all that-_ ”

Fuyuhiko cuts in, showing no intent on letting Hajime finish today. “I don’t always think he deserves it… but he’s been through a damn lot, I guess. It messes people up really bad.”

Hajime watches, amused by how talkative Fuyuhiko is, and he realises it’s probably because of the younger boy’s recent good fortune. He’s probably not even completely _there_  with him. Hajime can imagine he's probably sorting out thoughts in his own head, over-emotional in his own right. Hajime’s happy for him. The boy seems distracted, picking his cup back up with a pensive expression and making to leave, so Hajime returns to his desk. 

“Oh, but Hajime?” Hajime swivels around in his chair, and Fuyuhiko’s standing there, taking a sip from his orange coffee mug. It emphasizes the ring on his finger, and Hajime can see that he’s glinting with pride.

“From one man to another? What _is_ unforgivable is the fact that you haven’t packed up your fuckin’ bags, and you’re just wasting your time here. Go see that little pain in the ass. Your work will probably be better after, anyway.” Fuyuhiko coughs, probably an attempt to hide the smug expression that crosses his face, because he knows he’s being cool.

And Hajime agrees, eyes wide in admiration.

“You’re a good guy. We wouldn’t be here without you, and you’re not the type to wallow in your shit forever- _so get your sorry ass together._ Follow your heart… or... _something._ ”

Even Fuyuhiko cringes at the words that slip out of him, cheeks still blushed, and Hajime knows that even if he’s talking to Hajime, he’s thinking about someone else. But Hajime just thinks he sounds…

Very cool.

“Fixing shit isn’t easy, and I still don’t know if this is the right way… but it is what it is, until things work out… you gotta do something, right?”

Hajime looks down at the endless medical records that litter his table, as he stacks them together and slots them into the drawer underneath his desk.

“You’re right. I’m… dumb. I’m sorry, I’ll get back to work.”

“I don’t blame you.” Fuyuhiko says. “You just got a heart, right? That’s all. You’re just human.” And with that, Fuyuhiko walks away.

And to Hajime, he’s the _epitome_  of cool. 

“Thanks, Fuyuhiko.” He calls out as the boy plops down on his chair, raising a hand to signal, before getting back to work with a bop in his shoulders.

_A man who can follow his heart, huh?_

Hajime smiles to himself, flickering on the screen of his desktop.

_He wanted to be cool, too._

 

 

 

_0_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at @notcoolhajime on tumblr + twt. If you talk komahina at me, I will... probably cry.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment! I absolutely love hearing your thoughts ;v;


	4. Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime wishes away the stifling silence, and a storm approaches. It's rather unfortunate, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Soni, Mags and Fe for helping me so much with writing and motivation, and to Krähe for just being the kindest gem <3

A year.

A year.

A whole year.

_ Aha. _

It’s nearly impossible for him to stop his legs from shaking as they’re clutched to his chest, rocking on the golden sand. His skin is prickling, ribcage heavy as he looks into the cerulean sea. This was nothing like the times that Mikan came, where his nerves were alive with electricity. His heart is burning, burning, and it’s almost  _ suffocating _ ; he’s the creature on the picture perfect beach that shifts the whole scene astray.

He hopes Hinata wouldn't be terrified.

The idea that anyone should ever be around anyone as unfortunate as him should be unthinkable. It’s why, after all, under the facade of importance he was kept here, and yet...

His coat feels so heavy on his shoulders, and his breath is shallow. It’s a nervous ache as he starts to see the shape of the ship appear on the horizon. It’s hard to stay calm, _ it’s so very hard to stay calm right now, _ but he has to stay calm, because if he doesn’t, the idea of Hinata seeing something so unsightly is…

_ Ah. _

_ Ahah. _

His fingers thrum on his jacket.

_ So unpleasant. _

Would he still talk to him then…?

_ Hinata. _

Such a fresh voice, an energetic voice. Sharp, young, and very much hopeful.

He draws circles in the sand, before stretching out his body so he’s leaning out and letting the sun fall on his skin.

Then the boat docks. The boy’s off the boat, running along the wooden pier, hair a mess, shrugging off his black blazer, and the sight of the familiar figure sets his heart into frenzy. Komaeda tries his hardest to stand and walk forward.

When Komaeda approaches him, even with his hair disheveled, black blazer half off, spitting sand out of his mouth, he thinks the other boy looks…

_ well. _

_ Ahah. _

A familiar sense of deja vu washes over him.

Of course Hinata Hinata looks  _ really well _ .

 

 

... 

 

 

It's hot today. Unbelievably hot. The air is still, with not a cloud to be seen hanging in the clear blue sky. Hajime didn't remember the island having been so quiet. With the absence of birdsong, and the missing wind, the trees didn't rustle how they usually did. It was almost as if the island decided altogether that today they would halt any symphony.

Hajime doesn't believe in superstition, but it really felt like the whole island was holding its breath, like he felt in his own chest. An unsettling calm before a building storm.

 

_“Why are you here?“_

 

Steady gray eyes. Steady voice.

It’s no secret amongst the Future Foundation just what Hajime’s intentions were for coming here. Whether it was paranoia, or perhaps intuition, Hajime didn't know, but he could have sworn that the past month held a few more snickering glances than he was used to.

Just yesterday morning when he first left, the girls giggled before he set off on the bus. Even with their own ridiculously large carrier bags, overloaded suitcases and a daunting political, recruitment mission in front of them, they had the energy and focus to laugh at him. What was even worse was the sigh of relief that came afterwards when Hinata finally boarded. Of the three, only Mahiru had been kind enough to give a muted, shy wave and “Good Luck, Hajime.”

It was terrible because while the girls click clacked off to their coach in immaculate fashion to save the world, Mr. “Ultimate Hope” Hajime Hinata felt just a little like he was being treated as a toddler getting silenced after throwing a tantrum. Makoto had been _nice_ about it, but Makoto was _always nice._

And it got worse. His seven hour long bus ride was plagued with the voices of Tanaka and Souda, who had for once united in what felt like targeted harassment of the poor boy, who could only do so much to block out the jeers when his two friends sat directly behind him.

_“Man, finally, Miss Sonia’s happy to see someone else leave other than me! And she likes you, dude, so maybe I have a chance! What do you think, Hajime?”_

Thanks, Kazuichi.

_“Indeed, your consistent sighing has seemed to darken the countenance of even the dark queen herself. It is truly… impressive.”_

Thanks, Gundham.

_“Quiet, you! Sonia’s a pure princess! She has no place in your weird, dark- whatever!”_

Thank you, both of you, for your overwhelming support.

_“Hnnn…” The grey-skinned boy drawled out, long and awkward, pulling his purple scarf over his nose before a chirpy little critter pops out from his scarf to stick a tongue out at the shark-toothed male._

_“What kind of response is that, huh?!” The pink haired male folds his arms, slouching into his seat. “Oi, Hajime. Did you see that?” He turns angrily to the powder-faced boy. “What the hell does Miss Sonia even see in you?!”_

But Hajime sank into his bus seat, the worst part was knowing he was guilty as charged. He wondered just how annoying he had been these past few months to bring even these unstoppable forces together in agreement, and to receive such unified relief from the three girls.

_Probably like an angsty teenager._

_Probably like some hormonal, angsty teenager…_

Groaning, Hajime really hoped that wasn’t how he'd been acting. He’s a grown man, and the thought makes him want to disappear into the wet soil beneath his feet…

Regardless of how obvious it was for the Future Foundation, there existed a world both more oblivious and frustrating than one where Gundham and Kazuichi co-existed...

Jabberwock Island.

It’s in this location that the reason for Hajime’s visit might as well have been Top-Secret classified information for its sole inhabitant, currently focused with 100% of his attention on the plants in front of him as he turns on the sprinklers with a flick of his metal arm, and the water is a slow trickle. It’s a simple task, but the pale-haired boy is putting full intensity into it, as if to distract himself from thinking of anything else.

 

_But…_

 

Perhaps the one perk of Nagito’s laser-point focus was that Hajime had a lot of time to look at the boy with his peculiar, stark ivory hair- more often a mess than not- wearing that same oversized crumpled jacket, too hot for a summer day. He's intense as ever, gentle eyes locked onto the activity in front of him, winged lashes painting delicateness into his look. It’s a muddled feeling in his gut, a mixture of relief, happiness, and anxiety whenever he looked at the boy. A yearning feeling hangs in his chest: he was so much more lively compared to when he last sawhim; a scene primarily surrounded by artificial white walls and blue curtains, flowers sitting innocently in the bedside vase, gray eyes silent and devoid of confidence.

_It's a feeling of regret._

Here on the island, the endless blue curtains were painted with white clouds, and trees lined the pathways. Here, under the colours of the sea and sky, his deathly pale skin wasn’t as striking as it was back then. A pale hand moves to brush white curls away from his eyes, and Hajime notes that the other boy’s hair has grown slightly longer, and the sharpness of his features more pronounced. Are his eyelashes longer? The way they flutter about his eyes trying to disguise the intense nature of the boy’s steely gaze.

Surrounded by the green fields, puff of hair a mess, the young man looks so __innocent,__ minding his own business as he flicks the switch off, scrawls along his clipboard and sets off to find the next sprinkler. Nagito’s completely on task in complete, calm efficiency.

 

But…

 

__Ha..._ _

 

Hajime couldn't help but feel like he was intruding. _Like he was unwelcome._

 

They’ve already been through several of their destinations together, after working through Rocketpunch Market and surveying the beach, and it was… pathetic. After the initial excited banter, an eerie quiet found itself nestled between them both, and the silence was anything but kind. All sorts of questions ran through Hajime’s head, because he could only count one instance where Nagito had been the first one to talk to _him…_ and it was only to say sorry when the lights suddenly went out. He felt pathetic that it was enough to send skippy palpitations through his chest, because otherwise the boy had hardly glanced at Hajime the whole morning, and it really didn’t help the growing pool of anxiety doing backstrokes in Hajime’s gut since he’d arrived on the island.

Hajime begrudgingly admits that he didn't expect the boy to be so… cold.

_Did he hate him now? Every night then, was it just to entertain him? The boy trying his hardest to be useful in any shape or form to an Ultimate?_

_Or... was he hard to look at?_

_Sure _,__  Hajime fiddles with his tie. _Maybe he wasn’t the most handsome man on earth, but he was by no means ugly, was he?_ The few times he’d caught Nagito so much as glance at him, the boy seemed to almost wince, turning away immediately with a pained look on his face. Once, he could have sworn he even saw a shiver.

Back in the program, things were so _different_ , and he couldn't remember anything but compliments running down his skin. Not to mention, a bit over year ago, after they’d just gotten out of the program…

If anything, he’d personally thought the past year looked… rather good on him? If the sudden spike in compliments from distant colleagues working at the Future Foundation was anything to go by, of course.

 _It wouldn't be that. He’s…_ relatively _ _sure__ , but he can feel his forehead tense in aggravation because he wasn't sure what it __was__.

Well, whatever it was, it shouldn’t take something so simple to wear on him. It’s frustrating how even in the past, the boy didn't even have to try and he was already under his skin, getting the gears to turn gratingly in his head, hitting all his weak spots without batting a delicate little eyelid.

But all things considered, it’d been a year. After a year, surely… it wouldn’t be for nothing, right? Someone could go from start to at least a decent place in a year. He’d taken it into account… he’d tried. But he still didn’t think…

He scoffs. His own self-pity is disgraceful. He’s not sure what he expected. He’s about to laugh at himself, if the nausea didn’t hit his stomach; if he didn’t feel like he’d be sick. And the thought of those sharp, foreign-familiar eyes watching him retch is just not what he wanted right now.

For someone to look so familiar, and yet…

Hajime clutches himself tighter.

 

_That's not a helpful thought._

After almost a year, the foreign presence was like meeting a stranger. In fact, Hajime knew for a fact meeting a stranger would be less suffocating. There’s been a lot he’d missed out on, only familiar anymore with a detached voice over the receiver, usually when the events of the day had already passed, and both of them were settled inside their bedrooms, mundanely going about their respective tasks. Hajime lets out a shudder of a breath, fingers fiddling with his tie to calm him down. Again, it’s all he can do to suppress the ridiculous feeling Hajime got when he thought about things too much.

 

He had to remind himself to let go.

 

_You can’t keep doing this forever. It’s the way things are now. You have to move forward. Keep moving forward, and look in front of you…_

_Stop being such a coward._

So he looks in front of him.

His eyes widen.

He’s there to catch the end of a fleeting glance, and his heart drops when the other boy physically flinches upon meeting mismatched eyes. In the moment, the arm of his jacket gets caught by a stream of water dripping from the dead hanging sprinkler, and then the boy’s looking at his sleeve sullenly.

This is a chance, Hajime thinks, patting the dirt off his trousers as he stands. He slips the windmill blueprints into the duralumin case before walking over, reaching out and tentatively tugging at the shoulders of the other boy’s jacket. The boy before him jolts as he turns to stare up at him. Hajime can practically feel the colour of his cheeks in the summer heat.

“Uh… why don't you give this to me? Maybe I can hold onto this while it dries?” He says, giving the jacket another little tug, and grey eyes widen. “I mean… it’s way too hot today, anyway, right?”

“...  It’s a minor insignificance.” The boy turns back, voice a little breathless, probably from crouching so long, bent over the crops. “It’s probably something I deserve, considering I let the windmill fail under my watch, and to waste your time like this. Besides, to use the Ultimate Hope as a measly coat hanger? I would never consider it...”

Hajime furrows his brow, mental attempt to ignore the self-deprecation. “Then… maybe I could just… tie it to your waist?”

Nagito thinks for a moment, fingers lifting to ghost over his lips. It’s such a small decision, but the silence is deafening.

“If that’s really what you __want__ , you can do so.”

Hajime furrows his eyebrows.

“Uh… but is that what you want?”

The boy blinks blankly back at Hajime, before his gaze drifts elsewhere. “It doesn’t really matter what I want, as long as it’s what you want, Hajime.” Nagito huffs, as if it’s obvious. “The feelings of someone who’s hardly an Ultimate are hardly consequential.”

Hajime can’t help the skeptical look on his face. It’s so matter of fact, Hajime can _almost_  tell it’s not something he wants.

“So, I only want to do what Hajime thinks is best.” Nagito says, voice tilting cheery as he finishes, but his voice betrays no real emotion, and Hajime can’t figure out why on earth the boy is so purposefully distant.

“Well… maybe I’d want you to do something you want… for once.”

“Huh?” That the incredulity in his voice is the first genuine thing he’s heard all morning grates on Hajime’s nerves. “But why would you want something as ridiculous as that? Ha, I wouldn’t trust my own decisions over any Ultimate’s… ever!”

The pitched tone of the final note strikes a cold cord in Hajime’s blood, and he hardly thinks this argument is worth having over a jacket. His eyebrows are knit together, patience starting to run thin. There’s a weight in his lungs which was previously worry, mixing into mild annoyance and frustration. But he can feel the light breaths of the boy before him as well, and in this simple interaction…

At least he’s captured his attention.

“... So is it a good idea to take off the jacket, or not?”

“Well, considering what we’re doing, I imagine the bottom would drag along the floor quite a lot, Hajime. But if you want, we can still do it-”

Oh. So he did have an opinion after all… _ _and__  free thought. Who would have guessed.

“Then __no__ … you could have just said so.” Hajime mumbles, eyes falling on the sprinkler.

“Is that all, then?” Nagito’s voice, and something uncomfortable clenches at Hajime’s chest. “We should really get back to work.” He watches as the white haired boy dusts at his jeans, and with a blank smile he walks off without looking back, headed straight for the rickety looking windmill in the distance. It’s not in good shape at all, with several blades hanging loose and the rotor’s spin rickety and weak.

With a sigh, Hajime picks up his briefcase and follows. The boy was just… really something, and today was not shaping out to be a good day, nor the week a good idea. In his head, he mentally reminds himself that it really wasn’t his fault, and sometimes Nagito was just difficult. And if he was going to be difficult, then Hajime really didn’t have the patience for it.

They’re almost at the windmill when the boy in front of him stops to suddenly look up, and Hajime almost knocks into him, but manages to maneuver around him in the last second- but Hajime’s feeling disgruntled, petty, and determined not to let Nagito get to him _ _any longer__  if he was really going to spend the rest of the day pretending Hajime wasn’t even there, so he walks straight past.

It’s not until he reaches the windmill that he looks around and sees that the other boy wasn’t directly behind him anymore. Heartbeat, and his eyes frantically dart around until he sees him under a nearby tree, eyes fixed to the side, hands clasped onto his sleeves, biting his lip.

It’s not until the ring of distant thunder rings through the air that Hajime jolts to attention, and their eyes snap together.

Was it really going to rain?

Hajime groans, before pulling out the blueprints from the case.

 __What an unlucky day._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to say thanks to the kind people who left comments or reached out to me through it! It means SO MUCH to know people still check in- despite my slow progress with these parts... this story is very precious to me.
> 
> If you wanna follow along my fic updates or anything, follow me on @notcoolhajime on tumblr or twitter! 
> 
> I'd absolutely love to know your thoughts, so please feel free to leave a comment - they absolutely make my day! ;v;

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at @notcoolhajime on tumblr and twitter <3


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